Chapter 3
Chapter 3
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Translator: penny
Chapter: 3
Chapter Title: I Didn't Know Back Then. (2)
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# 3
1. I Didn't Know Back Then. (2)
#1 Their Circumstances: A Certain Trainee
They'd lost it. Completely lost it. This was insane.
"Heh heh heh. They say you're the best class ever. You're holding up well."
Rain of magitech bombardment from the sky.
Just five days into advanced training, out of a hundred trainees, only thirty of us—including me—were still alive.
On the first night of arrival, at midnight.
Half had been eliminated right from the dorms by the opening barrage, so hearing that we'd lasted this long was something, but even that was hitting its limit now.
"Hmm. This class looks promising."
From afar, with an expressionless face and the occasional sneer, the one ordering the bombardment to the liaison magician beside him was Instructor Naruan—the man we'd only heard about during junior trainee days.
One of the junior instructors had said this about him back then:
"The leaders of our organization's major divisions were all forged by that man's hands."
And that maybe we'd get the chance too.
But the instructor who said that had smirked and added:
"But most of you—really, most—won't make it. Not even one in ten. At best, one in twenty. Sometimes one in fifty."
He said most would drop out early, head back to junior training for re-education.
When I heard that, I thought: Then that one will be me.
I'd abandoned my war-ravaged village and joined the organization knowing full well it was the villain's path.
I wasn't like the kids sold into slavery, or by their parents, or war orphans with no choice.
My resolve for training was different.
In fact, during junior training, I'd ranked 27th—pretty high.
But this?
I'd gone to bed excited about tomorrow's training, only for the siren to blare, and a minute later the intact dorm to get bombed to rubble.
Dumbfounded, clutching just the sword and pants I'd grabbed, they told us the destination and said latecomers drop out.
And when we raced there desperately at the word "drop out," I heard the most absurd thing I'd ever encountered in my life.
"Ooh. Forty-nine survivors from the first strike, and forty-nine here too. The instructor is so pleased! You, the most promising class, make me proud! So. Very. Very. Very. Very. Very. Veeeeeery happy. So happy tears are welling in my eyes."
A frivolous tone that didn't match his stern face.
Yet his cold eyes didn't match either, and the corners of his mouth twitched upward like he was holding back a laugh, quivering.
"Ahh. A master's grace is as vast as the heavens, and with tears in his eyes, even the gods above must be weeping."
As if waiting for something, Instructor Naruan tilted his head up to the sky. Then he looked back at us and said:
"Yes. The heavens' tears will fall as rain upon the earth. It would be terrible if my precious pupils caught colds getting wet. So hurry and use your umbrellas."
Was he crazy?
That was my first thought.
It was night, but the sky was cloudless.
No way rain was coming. And the "umbrellas" they gave us? Just wooden sticks.
Not even a brim—like snapped branches, rough and crude. They couldn't block a raindrop, let alone a falling leaf.
"Wait, this is?"
But a shrill scream of horror answered my question.
I turned at the high-pitched voice. It was the girl appointed No. 17 from junior training—ten ranks above me.
"Oh ho. Someone's already figured out the umbrella. Simple enough, then."
Snap!
The moment Instructor Naruan flicked his fingers, one person appeared beside him.
"Here. Make it rain a bit."
At those words, silver rain began stitching the sky.
***
Ahh, it's burdensome as always.
Did the principal feel this way every new semester during speeches?
And still drone on sleepily like that? No wonder not just anyone becomes principal.
You'd need a face plated with mithril-grade steel to handle it.
Just stepping onto the podium, and a hundred pairs of eyes locked on me.
Some expectant, some anxious, some blank.
Whatever.
Grow up quick and boost my incentives! That's all I cared about.
"You chicks fresh from the egg, shells still clinging—welcome. I am Instructor Naruan, in charge of Training Group 1."
A few bristled at "chicks."
Probably the top-ranked hotshots feeling cocky.
But elementary top student doesn't always mean high school top.
Talent from nonstop studying doesn't vanish, but that's talent for you.
It surges suddenly, snatching the top spot.
That's genius territory. I didn't see any here, but someone would bloom and overtake the rest.
"Other instructors start training today, but I am prepared to grant you a special rest today. No point dragging it out—I'll just tire my mouth, and you'll get bored. Head to your assigned dorms and enjoy a sweet day off."
They blanked for a second, then cheered and left. I smiled faintly.
As expected of an evil organization.
They wouldn't even give those kids proper rest. But I'm different! Rest right away!
Where else is there an instructor like me?
"...The infamous Last Supper?"
But the organization member here to assist with tomorrow's training saw my benevolent smile and paled strangely.
What? Bad lunch?
"Not the last. I've never seen anyone die in my training."
"True. They don't die."
He spoke in a uneasy tone, but I didn't pry.
Evil organizations don't foster much camaraderie.
Ones that stress loyalty chain-fall when one gets caught.
Long-standing ones live ready to abandon each other.
Even when departments need to link up, others might stab you in the back. So evil org social skills matter to prevent that.
And this guy? One of the two peaks you befriend in the org!
The famed magitech mage unit!
One wrong move with their firepower or the finance crew's funds, and your org life is half over.
Submit a budget, but old feud cuts it in half. Or promised mage support ghosts you for "busy"—mission wrecked!
"Alright, time to prep."
"Understood."
Officially, I'm way above in rank.
He nodded slightly and vanished. I checked the time.
"Current time: 1400 hours."
Ten hours till day's end. I did say rest today, right?
#2 Their Circumstances: A Certain Magitech Mage's Plight
"Boss, this is the training for the kids?"
As a magitech mage of Howling—darkness and evil's ally, far from justice or light—I've done plenty of dirty deeds.
I'd eliminate targets by any means, villages vaporized on a whim.
Dozens of betrayals from yesterday's allies.
But even I thought this was off.
"Imperial Bombardment Magic? Even the org's special forces can't block it."
The first day's plan was nuts.
That mad imperial witch's tactic from the last war.
Simple concept: Magitech mage ascends over 5000 meters, freezes pure water into ice with freeze magic, launches it.
But the result?
Merdea Kingdom's 30,000 regulars—rivaling the empire militarily—lost their commander and 5000 men in one hit.
Magic barriers shredded by sheer mass and speed. Merdea mages scrambled to intercept, but the witch's main force struck the chaos first.
Her 10,000 nearly annihilated Merdea's 30,000. Already in imperial textbooks.
And they're firing that at rookies barely past junior training?
"Control it well."
"Boss! Even pebbles from 5000 meters crack skulls."
"Exactly. So the kids learn to dodge well."
"They die if they don't!"
Sure, personnel churn isn't imperial purge-level, but we can't waste resources like this.
My conscience hadn't bottomed out enough to dog-kill clueless newbies.
But the boss's reply was firm.
"They won't die."
Look closer—he had dead eyes.
"...Higher-ups' orders?"
"Yeah. Straight from Naruan Instructor's former pupil."
Naruan Instructor's direct disciple.
Org training sites across the empire—no, continent—vary by location, but always 100 per class.
Not all graduate perfectly.
Some fifty. Some seventy. Some thirty.
Many die in training; sometimes more deaths than grads.
But Naruan's grads stand out.
Simple reason: Never more than single digits complete.
Even an evil org should fire him, but he keeps the post because survivors dominate upper ranks with overwhelming skill and speed.
Especially the last class—hailed as best ever—their pupils shattered records, seizing key combat, personnel, finance posts.
And made not one subordinate question it.
"Info deputy director said: They'll seem dead, but won't die. Won't die, but glimpse paradise. Paradise tour possible, but here is hell."
"That just makes me more uneasy—is it?"
"No use. Higher-ups won't listen. It went fine last year, so just follow orders."
I sighed watching the boss sigh.
Top combat magitech mage or not, he's just a salaried villain.
"Start time 0000. Request: Make it rain. We're set by 0100 tomorrow."
"Pray they don't die."
Uneasy feeling lingered, but what could we do?
Overthink it, join the imperial army instead.
"Please... pray no one dies."
"Will they...? Sometimes death's the kinder rest."
Seeing the boss's bitter face, all I could do was pray for the trainees' despair hours away.